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I remember the little girl she used to be in her bright tutus and soft-footed slippers. She would stand on my feet as we waltzed, which I couldn't do as well as I pretended.
On the edge of the chair,under twinkling lanternsand glimmering lights,with slamming,heart-wrenchingassurances and promisesreaching me through the stage.
Enter the victim, normally dead, Shot, bludgeoned, or pushed off a cliff, on his head,
    I have an innovative mind One with many characters and personalities My friends are imaginary, a figment of my dreams They come alive as I write on the pages inside a blank notebook of my alter worlds.
The buzz of the bass and the beat of the drum kept the crowd alive, Kids push and pull and scream and love and hate all at once, If I could be anywhere in the world,  I would choose here in a heartbeat.
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